Severed Sisterly Love (and more)

Eye-Opening Moments are real-life stories of adversity, encounters, and perspectives intertwined. In this episode you will hear about Severed Sisterly Love & Target Practice.

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Books: https://amazon.com/author/emily-kay-tan.2021_

Chapters

• 0:21 Introduction
• 1:02 Severed Sisterly Love
• 17:18 Target Practice
• 23:42 Key Takeaways

Transcript

Hello and welcome to episode #172 of Eye-Opening Moments where you’ll hear stories of adversity, encounters, and perspectives intertwined. They are moments that can lift your spirits, give you some food for thought, or move you. For the introspective mind that likes to reflect, discover, and find solutions or meaning in a complex life, this is for you. I’m your host Emily Kay Tan. In this episode, you will hear about Severed Sisterly Love & Target Practice.

Severed Sisterly Love
Auntie Cassie and Auntie Tessa were like my big sisters. Growing up with them in Grandma’s house, I thought we’d always be together. I thought we had a good relationship and didn’t see us growing apart. But we did, or did we? I thought our bond was strong, but I was more wrong than I could imagine.

Auntie Cassie was sixteen years older than me, but she felt like a big sister to me. She liked shopping, especially for clothes. Nearly every Saturday, it seemed, we went shopping downtown. It was Auntie Tessa, Grandma, Auntie Cassie, and me. Sometimes, Auntie Cassie bought a shirt or two for me. She was working and had some money. If we didn’t go shopping, Auntie Cassie would find some activity for us to do together, like go to a festival, the park, or some community event. Weekends were fun with her.

When I was in second grade, Auntie Cassie brought me to the optometrist to get glasses. She helped me pick out some glittery pink frames. It was called “cat eyes.” I didn’t like them but decided to trust her choice. She was almost like a mom to me, but she was my mom’s younger sister. When I was in fifth grade, my teacher thought I needed a big brother or sister because I was so quiet in class. So, she arranged it, and I got a “brother.” Auntie Cassie came along to protect me in case my “big brother” was not kind to me. When I started high school, my school was near her workplace, and we walked together each morning. Many mornings were windy, and Auntie Cassie held onto my arm. She said the wind might blow her away, so she needed to hold on to me. It made me feel like I had a big sister who loved me. A year after our twenty-minute morning walks together, Auntie Cassie married, and I was one of her bridesmaids. I was honored and thought myself well-loved.

After Auntie Cassie married, she moved out of state. I hardly saw her and never thought much about it. However, sixteen years later, I got engaged myself. My fiancé thought he told his mother, but she said he didn’t, so she was angry. He said we needed to wait until she calmed down before we proceeded with wedding plans. I got angry and wanted to call off the wedding because I thought he was tied to apron strings. I called Auntie Cassie, who persuaded me not to do so. I thought she was like a big sister to me. I loved her all my life and never had issues with her.

After my marriage, I decided to make a point of calling her long-distance every month. Ninety-nine point nine percent of the time, it was me calling her. I told myself that it was because she was busy working all the time or working more than me, so I overlooked the fact.

Two years later, I decided to arrange for Auntie Cassie, Auntie Tessa, and I to meet and get together at Auntie Tessa’s house. The three of us lived in three different states and had separate lives as adults. I was thrilled that we got together one cold, snowy winter. Auntie Cassie had kids and a business, so it was not easy to get away. I was married and started a side business. I was excited to share about the products I had to sell. Auntie Cassie bought them. I appreciated the support and thought I had quality products for her. I did not know that that trip would be the last fun outing together.

Several months later, the company I worked with told me Auntie Cassie returned the products. I was shocked in disbelief and called her immediately as I thought it must have been a mistake. Auntie Cassie told me that she had returned the products and had initially only bought them to support me as an independent contractor. Hurt, hurt, hurt; I was in tears. I had quality products for her, but she didn’t see them that way. That day, I learned that Auntie Cassie didn’t trust me. 

The bond I thought we had was broken, or maybe it was never there. I couldn’t believe she could think I would sell her anything that was not of good quality. If she didn’t want it, why did she not tell me? Maybe she wanted to spare my feelings but why couldn’t she be honest with me? Was our relationship that fragile? I explained the value of the products to her again and that I only wanted the best for her. She didn’t say much, and our conversation ended on a sour note. I didn’t know that that would be our last conversation over the phone.

Deeply hurt, I decided to wait and see if she would call me. I had always initiated the calls through the years, and she rarely called me. For once, I wanted to see if she would call me. The call never came. Just like that, a three-decade-long relationship ended. 

I was tired of always making the calls. I was deeply hurt that Auntie Cassie didn’t trust me or my judgment. You could say I made her wrong about the matter; I did. I could have called her to discuss what happened, but I don’t think the result would be different. Perhaps she didn’t trust me because I was younger than her. I thought she knew me better or that I was a trustworthy person. The worst part was realizing I did not have that bond I thought I had with her. If we did, we would communicate more or be honest with each other. Drained and saddened by the fact that any communication between us could only happen if I called,  pained me. I didn’t want to do it anymore.

I used to think that trust was earned, but I can’t think of anything I did to cause her to distrust me. Through some life experiences, I have learned that trust is given. It is a decision; it is a choice you make. It is like love; you might think you need to earn it, but to love or not to love is a choice. Though sad about the severed sisterly ties, I have come to accept it. I don’t want a one-way relationship. It is not a relationship.

Auntie Tessa, the other auntie I loved, was only three years older than me. When we were in elementary school, we walked to school together. It was only a five-minute walk, but I was like the little kid who had to run to catch up with her and her best friend from across the street from where we lived. I think it was because her legs were longer than mine! Auntie Tessa might go shopping, eat out, or attend some community event with her best friend and have me tag along with them. It made me feel like the little sister who went along with them. In my mind, she was my big sister. I have an older sister who lives in another state, and we hardly did anything together, even if given the chance. Auntie Tessa was the big sister I had always wanted.

Auntie Tessa gladly gave me the clothes she no longer wanted as she wanted to keep up with fashion trends. I found her hand-me-downs to be beautiful treasures. She liked to bake; I didn’t, but I enjoyed watching her bake and eating what she made. She enjoyed sewing clothes, too. I wouldn’t say I liked it either, but I had fun making blue overalls with rainbow-colored straps in my home economics class with a bit of help from her. Auntie Tessa worked at a donut shop and later at a seafood restaurant. She’d come home late and bring home leftovers from work. My mouth swallowed the scrumptious seafood and sweet donuts like a hungry child who was starving. Auntie Tessa thought of me, and I thought she loved me like her little sister; I know I wanted that sisterly love and loved her.

Getting ready for college, I needed to write an essay. I knew Auntie Tessa was good at writing or she liked the subjects of English Literature and Writing. I asked her to help me edit my essay. When I got a call from two Ivy League universities for an interview, I was ecstatic. I learned that I got the interviews because they were puzzled why my SAT scores were not high or in the range of people who usually went to their schools. But my essay was exemplary. The content of the essay was about me, growing up, and the identity I established to make myself unique. The content was unique to me, but I suspect Auntie Tessa’s editing helped make it stand out. I credit her for the Ivy Leagues even considering me. Auntie Tessa was the big sister I never had.

Three decades later, when I attended Grandma’s funeral, a burning hot bomb exploded in me when I learned that Auntie Tessa told a lie about me.

Uncle Rick said Auntie Tessa took a year off from college to work two jobs during college to help me pay for college, so why was I not helping my mom, their sister, with some money for retirement? Wait. Hold on! When she was in college, I was not yet in college, so how could it be that she was helping me pay for college tuition?! Nobody in the family helped me. I paid my college tuition with government help and part-time jobs. How dare she take away my most significant life accomplishment! She had something to conceal from the family and used me to hide it; why didn’t she consult me? Another bomb detonated from my head. My fever and hot head made me dizzy. Luckily I was sitting at the dinner table with food and drink. I never talked about it with Aunt Tessa. It was my fault for not finding out why she did that. I was probably too angry and left after the funeral dinner, fuming.

My heart sank. How could my beloved auntie do such a hurtful thing to me? I had enough uncaring family members like my parents, sisters, brothers, and uncles who never cared about me. And now my Auntie Tessa? I worked hard to pay for my college education; how could she rob me of that achievement? How could someone I loved so dearly do that to me? Two bombs blew me into smithereens that day. The sisterly love between us severed for me that day.

You could say I held a grudge; I did. You could say I could have chased after Auntie Tessa for some explanation for the lie, but I was too angry and didn’t think to do it. Things could have turned out differently, but they didn’t. Besides feeling like she ripped my accomplishments from me, like ripping out my intestines, the lack of trust in telling me her secret about why she took a year off from school hurt me. Like Auntie Cassie, Auntie Tessa didn’t trust me enough to be frank.

The two big sisters I loved so much disappeared from my life. They never searched for me to rekindle any relationship; The severed ties spurt blood to have less blood in me. Though weakened in energy, the fighter in me stood up to live another day and pump new blood in me to move forward. 

The severed sisterly love has no happy ending, but it reminds me to appreciate whatever I have in the present and ask for communication. If the other person is unwilling, accept it and move on.

Target Practice
Auntie Tessa and I sat at a booth to meet with my boyfriend, Anson. It would be the first time she would meet with him. I shared about my Thailand trip and fun excursions on the outlying islands. Then Auntie Tessa looked Anson straight in the eyes and said, “Be careful; she knows how to use a gun.” We all laughed at its absurdity, but Auntie Tessa was telling Anson to be good to me or he would suffer the consequences. She also suggested that I could protect myself in more ways than one. Auntie Tessa was serious, but Anson thought it was a joke. Little did he know what I was capable of.

Years before I met Anson, when I was in my early twenties, I took a trip to Thailand. Besides the many shiny gold-colored statues and religious temples I saw under the scorching hot sun, I remembered my trip to an outlying island the most. While on the ferryboat, the tour guide asked if anyone would like to jet ski. Some guys were bobbing on their jet skis and vying for business from us. Since I had never jet skied, I was excited to try it. Naïve me didn’t even notice that no one else wanted to do it. Quick as can be, as soon as I raised my hand, one guy jumped onto our ferry to guide me down a rope ladder to his jet ski. 

In seconds, my jet ski driver zipped me around the choppy waters. Icy, cold water splashed all over me, but my face was full of smiles as I enjoyed the thrill of jet skiing. The ride ended too soon, and my jet ski driver directed me to climb the rope ladder back onto the ferry. My fellow tour group members told me how daring I was to go because the guys looked like menacing bandits who could whisk me away in the ocean, and I could never be seen again. The potential danger did not occur to the twenty-something me. However, it revealed my love for adventure; I loved trying new things, even if it was scary or dangerous. Thirty-plus years later, I say, luckily, nothing terrible happened to me. I only thought of the fun I would have, and I had lots of fun.

Soon, the ferryboat arrived at an island where a makeshift shooting range for target practice was set up. There were two long tables with various guns and headphones. The target was but large sheets of paper shooting targets. When I set foot on the burning but soft sand and walked towards the table of guns, the attendant asked if I wanted a pistol or a rifle. Scared but thrilled because I never touched a gun before, I opted for a pistol and put on headphones. Again, no one else in my tour group volunteered. No one gave any instructions. I was not in a place where there were laws about guns, and this was thirty-plus years ago on a remote island off of Thailand. 

I had seen gunfire on TV many times before, so I held the pistol with my two hands, aimed, and fired half a dozen rounds. I was proud to say I tried it and did something I had never done before. It was an adrenaline rush like riding on a rollercoaster, a rush and a thrill. My tour group members told me the gunfire was deafening. It was a small gun, so I was surprised to hear it made big bangs. I didn’t know because I had headphones on. They thought I was brave to handle a firearm. I only thought it was something fun to try. I did not think about the dangers, or it was not a part of my innocent young life. I may not be a thrill-seeker, but I certainly welcome it when it presents itself to me!

I shared about my trip to Thailand because I had fun and wanted Anson to know that I liked having fun or what I considered fun. I didn’t realize that it would also reveal the real me. I appeared shy and reserved, but I was the opposite. Anson listened with surprise but was fascinated by the dichotomy of me.

I never guessed that my target practice experience could be used to protect me. Auntie Tessa told Anson to be careful and that I knew how to use a gun. I don’t know that I do, but I have held one and had some target practice! The mini excursions are only a glimpse into what I am capable of as a risk taker. As Auntie Tessa also said, “Beware, don’t underestimate what Emily can do!

Key Takeaways
Though I thought I had two aunties who were like sisters to me, I learned that a one-way relationship is NO relationship.

Though I managed to do a little target practice on an island, sharing the experience protected me from bad boyfriends.

Next week, you will hear two real-life stories called The Good in the Bad Marriage & From Adversity to Abundance. If you enjoyed this episode of Eye-Opening Moments, please text someone and ask them what they think about this podcast, or go to www.inspiremereads.com and leave a message. Thank you for listening!